


BURNBURNBURN

by iwaoiks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, band au, excessive usage of italics and the word fuck, this fic is just straight up vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwaoiks/pseuds/iwaoiks
Summary: Issei says,well can you blame him? Our music is fucking good, man. Hajime says,isn’t that the point? The audience issupposedto react that way. And Tetsurou says,you’re both so fucking stupid. That’s love, you idiots. Koutarou is inclined to agree with Tetsurou, but that’s because he’s pretty sure that Tetsurou just knows everything.This is how Koutarou loves.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42





	BURNBURNBURN

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bokuakacanon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuakacanon/gifts).



It’s so fucking _hot_.

The stage is lit up by spotlights and Koutarou feels like he’s burning under them, squinting in the glare of them. Everything is so fucking loud, their music ringing electric in the air, drowningdrowningdrowning every single person who’s in this room; Hajime stands ahead of him, belting out the most beautiful fucking voice Koutarou’s ever heard, all rough and raw and _real_ , and it lights up the room better than the shitty red and purple LED lights ever could. To his left, Issei’s fingers slide across his bass guitar almost lazily, because Issei’s a bastard who knows their sets so well by heart that he can play them in his sleep, and Koutarou might’ve accused him of it if his eyes weren’t burning, burning, fucking _burning_. Opposite Issei stands Tetsurou, and, fuck— Tetsurou is so fucking beautiful. He’s doing his absolute worst on his guitar, every part of him livid, like he plans to burn this place to the ground with nothing but his sound.

And then there’s Koutarou on his drums. His sticks a mere extension of himself, his playing as natural as breathing. Koutarou feels like he could live in this set forever, suspend himself in it like he’s learned to defy gravity, and Koutarou thinks he absolutely fucking _could_ with the way he feels right now, alive and alive and _alive_.

_You’re a little in love with everything, Koutarou_ , Tetsurou told him once, _but your second biggest love is music_.

And this is how Koutarou loves: like every piece of him was made for it. Like there’s nothing else he could ever want, except this stage and this song and these drums, thundering in his fingertips.

Their band is on fire. Their set is on fire. Koutarou is on _fire_.

When their song ends, the place doesn’t get any quieter; the audience erupts in screams and cheers, and Koutarou absolutely basks in it, feels like he could get drunk on this alone. He’s grinning from ear to ear; this has to be one of their best performances yet. The other three look back at Koutarou and he knows they’re all thinking the exact same thing: _I am_ so _gonna get fucked tonight_. Hajime shouts out their thanks and they leave the stage, and after a round of clapping each other’s backs and glowing in their own rights, Koutarou excuses himself and makes a beeline for his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, whose taste in music has to be the exact opposite of what their band produces, stands waiting for him in the shitty red and purple lights with his arms crossed, back to the wall, looking like how Koutarou is feeling. Like a fucking god. Like he’s so hungry he could swallow the world. Koutarou almost wants to stop, just stay where stands so he can look at Wakatoshi longer, admire his rigid disposition against the buzzing crowd— but Koutarou’s never been good at simply _looking_ , thrives more on sound and feel and touch, and right now he wants nothing more than to touch Wakatoshi, feel Wakatoshi, swallow all of Wakatoshi’s sounds.

Wakatoshi notices Koutarou approaching, then, and it tugs at somewhere deep inside him when their eyes meet. Koutarou thinks he could stay suspended in this moment forever, too, every second stretched out to infinity, his steps taking him ever closer to Wakatoshi.

Wakatoshi’s come to every single one of their performances, ever since they started dating. It’s more than just a show of support, Koutarou thinks— every time Koutarou sees him after stepping off the stage, there’s always something different in his eyes, alive and bright the way Koutarou would always feel. Issei says, _well can you blame him? Our music is fucking good, man_. Hajime says, _isn’t that the point? The audience is_ supposed _to react that way_. And Tetsurou says, _you’re both so fucking stupid. That’s love, you idiots_. Koutarou is inclined to agree with Tetsurou, but that’s because he’s pretty sure that Tetsurou just knows everything.

Koutarou’s a little in love with most things, Tetsurou always says, _even with your stupid toaster that doesn’t work two times out of three_ , and Koutarou has no objections to that— but if music’s his second biggest love, Wakatoshi can only be his first.

_Well duh_ , Hajime and Issei both say. _Even we know that_.

“You were amazing, Koutarou,” Wakatoshi says matter-of-factly when Koutarou is within earshot; there’s a small smile on his lips that’s brimming with pride, and Koutarou hasn’t stopped grinning yet. Doesn’t think he can, after a show like that. If he were a lesser man he’d pin Wakatoshi to the wall right here and now, kiss him breathless, relentless— has half a mind to do it, in all honesty— but he wants Wakatoshi’s bright and burning eyes only on him, and the red and purple lights are distracting.

“I _feel_ amazing,” he replies, shouting a little so he can be heard over the music that’s playing, and also, yeah, because he just likes to be fucking loud. Still grinning, still burning, Koutarou takes another step closer so he can whisper into Wakatoshi’s ear, because he isn’t a lesser man but he’s not that much better either, “I bet I can make you feel amazing too, Toshi.”

His fingers brush lightly over Wakatoshi’s wrist. When he pulls away, just enough to look, Wakatoshi's eyes are dark and lidded, and Koutarou is fucking starving.

This is how Koutarou loves: like the world is ending, and there’s nothing he wants to fucking do except hold Wakatoshi.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking a firm hold of Wakatoshi’s hand this time. Wakatoshi nods and they weave their way through the crowd, and like this, stepping out into the cool night air, burning where he’s touching Wakatoshi and still high on adrenaline and pure fucking music, Koutarou feels alive and alive and _alive_.

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday mel!!
> 
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/iwaoiks)!


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